


almost domestic moments

by thisisthenoid



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Definitely OOC, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, Maybe OOC, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Random & Short, Romantic Fluff, Sleeping Together, Slow Dancing, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Writing Exercise, dst: forge, fluff and comfort, im just going ham over here dont mind me, just fluff and love and tender and stchewpid all throughout, lazy stories, multiple stories, oh we're in tender city babyyy, rated for the mention of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthenoid/pseuds/thisisthenoid
Summary: different stuff written on different dates.
Relationships: Wilson & Woodie (Don't Starve), Wilson/Woodie (Don't Starve)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	1. understand understand

**Author's Note:**

> happy late holidays and happy early new year!!! i havent written anything in like 2 solid months Again haha wops  
> also!!!! thank you for the comments!!! i swear i read them i am just very bad at responding!!! literally reading them made me (‾◡◝) like i dunno how to describe it outside of keysmashing hhgvsdf im really bad at communication but thank yall all the same for the nice messages!!!! they seriously make my day!!!  
> these are bad and short but yknow how it be

16/12/2019: it's safe now

he flops down onto the fur roll with a gigantic sigh, splaying out his limbs like he's about to make a snow angel. it's only when woodie sits next to him and pats his shoulder that he gathers the last of his strength to roll to his side, giving woodie enough room to slump down behind him. he feels an arm snake under his arm and around to his front, a hand lightly curling into a bundle at his chest, body pressing close to his back, warmth flooding into his bones. a nose nuzzles itself into the back of his hair, legs loosely tangling up together, and he exhales another content sigh, an exhausted smile on his lips. 

  
the warmth, the comfort, the love; it's enough to make wilson fall into a slumber right then and there. he paws at another fur roll dumped at their feet with a great amount of effort, and with woodie's half hearted help, they pull the make-shift cover over themselves, settling in for the night.

* * *

19/12/2019: back scratch

it was very easy to get wilson flustered. a pat on the shoulder here, a squeeze of the bicep there, a hand lingering on his back for a touch too long - even looking into his eye was enough to flush his face bright red. woodie would say it was cute; endearing, even, to see his pale features lighten up with so little as a glance.

  
then again, his emotions weren't so set in stone either. sometimes, after a deerclops chase or a hound raid, wilson would look at him, like _really_ look at him. he would have such concern and worry etched into his face. he'd look at woodie like he were his everything, his entire world and more, bearing his heart on his sleeve without shame. woodie would find it too much to handle, not used to such strong emotions aimed at him. it was strange, but definitely appreciated. in all honesty, he'd missed those kinds of looks.

  
he hadn't felt as loved in a long time.

* * *

19/12/2019: teachings in the woods

'geez wil, yer've got two left feet, eh!'

  
'i know how to dance perfectly fine thank you-'

  
'OW!'

  
'ah shit, sorry-'

  
'"knows how to dance" he says-'

  
'i do-!'

  
'yeah, hmm mmm, yer know how to dance alright eh, steppin' on my shoes!'

  
'i admit its been a w-while since i last did this!'

  
'then put yer pride away and let me reteach you, dummy!' wilson couldn't stop his bubbly laughter, tears of mirth dotting his eye. 'and stop laughin'!'

  
'i-i can't help it! it's too funny!'

  
they swayed and side stepped in slow rhythms and even slower circles, their hands locked together at their sides. woodie gazed at wilson with unabashed adoration, while wilson kept his pinched stare focused to the floor, trying very hard not to keep stepping on woodie's boots.

it was nice.

* * *

27/12/2019: moonshine

  
he awoke with a jump to a moose's head inside the tent that was staring dead at him. three things happened simultaneously within the span of 10 seconds.

  
1\. wilson swore a colourful chorus and felt something in his face pop, 2. he shot to his butt and scrambled against the tents back, making it tilt backwards, and 3. that action made the moose snort and slam a hoof into the floor so it didn't tip over, which in turn, almost made wilson actually shit himself from pure fear. 

  
'oh what the fuck are you now' wilson blurt out to the moose, who tilted its head in a comical fashion, wide white eyes never breaking from him. and then, to make matters worse, the moose decided it wanted in on the tent, and with as much grace as a giant moose could possess, it bustled its way inside. it had to hunch over, and its antlers pushed up the roof, straining the material to breaking point. 'what the fuck.' was all wilson could supply to the situation.

  
the moose stayed there, hunched over with its back legs on either side of wilson, front hoofs planted in front of it. it cast a dark shadow over wilson, blocking his only exit, yet it looked at him with such curiosity, such interest, that wilson didn't feel scared anymore. the more he looked, the more oddities he spotted, and he wondered if this was the constants creation, or something more.

  
'so you're. ah. not going to hurt me?' wilson asked after a minute of peace passed. its ears twitched, and it shook its head. 'oh. great. you can understand me apparently. ... well, are you uh. cold?' it nodded, looking both fascinated and excited in one go. 'i, ah. i guess that makes sense. you're not a monster created by _her_ , are you?' another shake, this time more defiant. 'okay. ... alright. that's. great, actually, that's really good, that you're, not one of her monsters. ... well. thanks for uh. for not killing me. that's, that's very nice of you.'

they stayed like that for a while, wilson asking simple questions and the moose responding with shakes and nods, until the moose groaned and shrunk into a passed out man that ended any and all conversation.

* * *

28/12/2019: we're alright (mentions of blood!)

'ah, buddy, your eye.'

'what about it?'

'it's bleedin'.'

'... oh.'

'you seriously didn't notice?'

'not really. not until you. said.'

'geez darlin', c'mere so i can get a look, eh.'

'it's not that bad, i mean i can barely feel it-'

'wilson, it looks like a river exploded under that patch.' wilson rose a claw to his face, dabbed at his cheek with the tip of his claws, pulled them back and looked at them, and indeed saw red stain the black curves. he made a disgruntled face, like it was a mere disturbance of time instead of an injury. still, he allowed woodie to get close, and carefully, woodie peeled the darkened patch off his face, exposing his eyeless, running hole. instead of pulling a sneer or making a comment on how disgusting the sight was, he gently wiped under his bag-filled void with a makeshift cloth.

'you gotta take better care of yourself, wil.'

'i've made it this long, haven't i?' he sounded tired. like he'd given up. 'isn't that enough?'

'of _yourself_.' 

'i'm doing fine.'

'... yeah, i know.' woodie nodded, a soft smile on his face. 'you're brave, wilson. i don't doubt you for a second, i jus' hate seeing you hurt, eh, even if you don't show it. you don't need to hide or prove anything to me.'

his patch was replaced for a new one, his wound cleaned to the best ability, and they went on with their day like nothing had happened.

* * *

28/12/2019: the rain helps

  
wilson sat behind woodie, his legs on either side of woodie's thighs, arms looped around woodie's middle, claws laced together and resting against woodie's belly. he lightly snoozed, his face smushed between the left side of woodie's neck and shoulder. an umbrella was held under woodie's right arm, and it protected them from the rains lethal barrage. the heavy patters around them seemed to lull wilson into a deeper snooze.

they were content and happy, emotions that were rare to hold and maintain. there was no looming threat nor any kind of danger; it was just them and nature, alone to their own devices. allowed to rest and have some sense of peace. not even the waterfall of rain could dampen their moods - not with wilson's soft snores and woodie's wide smile. sometimes wilson would subconsciously squeeze around woodie's middle, and woodie would sink further into wilson's front, gloved white resting over inky black. 

woodie never wanted the moment to end.

* * *

30/12/2019: a gruff kind of softness

  
woodie did these things, sometimes. these little movements that grinded up wilson's brain into a fine mush and made him weak in the knees.

he'd hold his claw without any prompts, and it was a 50 50 chance of if he would lace their fingers together or rub his thumb over wilson's knuckles, but he always made sure to hold wilson's claws at least once every single day. it was a nervous habit, wilson guessed; something he did to calm himself down if things were getting too hectic to keep up with. but then, that didn't make sense either, because even if there was no danger or any incoming hordes, he'd still hold his claw anyway. maybe it was more of a comfort thing? wilson wasn't sure, he just. really liked holding woodie's hand back. it helped ground him the same way conducting science did, and the simple action of a thumb rubbing over his knuckles soothed his nerves a lot more than he liked to admit.

another thing was the hugging. wilson had never received many hugs in his life time, and what ones he did get were awkward, or harsh, or far too tight to the point of choking. but woodie? all of them were warm, comfortable, snug, welcoming; it was a hold he never wanted to break from. sometimes woodie would nuzzle his nose into wilson's neck or rub his hands in circles at the small of wilson's back, and it would destroy his thinking capacity every single time. he'd never get used to it, no matter how often woodie supplied them.

the chaste, soft kisses to his cheek, his forehead and the tip of his nose; soft pecks at the corners of his mouth or just below his ears. the pet names that weren't demeaning or mean spirited. how woodie would cup his face in his hands after a lash of frog rain to look him over for any injuries. the looks of affection woodie gave him. woodie allowing wilson's head to rest in his lap and running his gloved fingers through wilson's tarnished hair. how woodie seemed to genuinely care about him, always putting wilson before himself in anything and everything.

it messed wilson up. never before had he been someone's acquaintance in such a way. a friend? a best friend? this is what friends did, right? hold hands and leave kisses and give pet names?

his head hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. it was all. very hard to explain, the thing that they had. he didn't understand it himself, but. he _really_ liked what they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am just................a little Tender. thats it. i canote change this. also blind cause the only characters i see are wilson woodie and fuelweaver dfgdsgvfds  
> maybe theyll be a second chapter in the future since im riddled with short tender ideas


	2. the concept of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have officially passed the station of "how far can i stretch this until it's not platonic anymore" and are now careening towards "full on tender kiss love" at full speed and am i sorry? absolutely not  
> these are bad and longe because head empty and gay

15/1/2020: become a memory with me (based off of my good friends drawing!!!)

it happened without warning; woodie bounding up to wilson, warmth in his eyes and a wide smile across his bushy face. wilson knew he was up to something, he just didn't know what; not until woodie took him by the claw and tugged him to his feet, lacing their fingers together, his other hand finding a home at the small of wilson's back. wilson laughed, a flustered little noise that caught in his throat, his entire face instantly turning red. his claw landed behind woodie's shoulder as woodie twirled them around the campfire.

'w-whats brought this on?' wilson squeaked as he tightened his grip around woodie.

'i need a reason to dance with my bud?' was woodie's husky reply, stepping close to wilson, the tips of woodie's beard lightly brushing wilson's chin.

'ah, a w-warning would've been nice i suppose, i-i mean, i'm hardly dressed for the occasion!' woodie's brows drew low, a smile so wide it could split his face in half.

'you always look nice to me, eh. no need to dress up all fancy like.' and then he dipped wilson low to the ground, bumping their noses together, never breaking eye contact, causing wilson's entire being to freeze. 'think of this as a "thank you" 'a sorts, eh? for makin' me happy.' he held their pose, strong and sturdy, and wilson was like play-doh in his arms. but he trusted woodie, to not let him fall. to keep him steady. his grin was wobbly, eye slanted, and his heart was very close to beating out of his chest.

't-thank you, too.'

* * *

16/1/2020: down to earth

he dipped wilson to the floor, a warm glow in his eyes and a wide grin on his face, before the warmth morphed into shock and the grin changed into an open mouthed gasp. wilson felt himself falling, and saw that woodie was following him down.

'ah nuts' 'oh shit' chimed off in hurried bursts, with a muffled thud and drawn out groans close behind, before being followed by bubbly laughter.

'oh my g-gosh, i'm so sorry eh, i-i didn't mean to-' woodie wheezed, resting his face in the crook of wilson's neck, the wide grin plastered to his face again. wilson was too fluttery with laughter to respond, instead wrapping his arms around woodie's neck and pulling him down for a hug, nuzzling his nose into the side of woodie's head. they stayed like that until orange amber's filtered across the land.

* * *

16/1/2020: closet flow

'... hey, wilson.'

'greetings, woodie.'

'that's, ah. that's a lotta gears, eh? and rot! a mighty collection of. ... of gears and rot.'

'yep! there were a lot more clockworks down there than i anticipated, but i managed to get them all.'

'so you uh, you brought all the gears back?'

'... well, yes! what else could i do? leave them on the floor?'

'i mean. yeah. you don't _really_ need to bring 'em all back, eh?'

'but i have to pick up everything.' there was a serious look in his face. 'i can't just leave things on the ground, woodie. i _Have_ to bring everything back.'

'alright, fair enough, i hear ya eh.' woodie could only smile as he watched wilson begin to pack everything away into neatly organised chests.

* * *

18/1/2020: beat of our hearts

every time wilson looked at woodie, his heart would tingle and burn and pulsate in a way that definitely wasn't normal. every time, he'd clutch his chest and inhale big gulps of air and look away from woodie until the tingles faded. he didn't understand why it was so intense; if it was actually a sign that he was dying, or why it even happened at all. it only happened whenever woodie spoke about his day, or about the various plans he had in mind for the base. whenever woodie patted his shoulder after a hunt, or when he chuckled at one of his puns. when woodie grinned at him with genuine joy, and looked at him like he was his entire world.

he asked woodie one day, in a bout of confidence, what the tingles of the heart meant. woodie said it was a mix of love and happiness. that didn't make much sense to wilson until he sat down and really thought about it. when he thought about how seeing woodie smile made him smile; how hearing woodie's laugh made him laugh. how woodie always triggered the warmth to spread like a wildfire throughout his chest whenever their eyes locked. how at peace woodie made him feel by simply being by his side.

he asked, on a different day, if woodie experienced the tingles too. and like a stab, when woodie said yes, his heart sang with those wonderful heart ripples. he figured he could get used to an obnoxiously warm chest and singing heart, if it meant seeing woodie happy.

* * *

29/1/2020: it'll take a while for me to believe you

'i love you.' woodie said suddenly, completely out of the blue, causing the both of them to stop dead. at first, wilson thought he'd misheard; that maybe the voice was a whisper of the wind or a figment of his imagination, until he turned and saw the serious, tender twinkle in woodie's eyes aimed directly at him.

'... i-i'm sorry?' wilson squeaked, confused and stunned.

'i love you.' woodie repeated again, with the same soft voice and the same serious, tender twinkle. wilson blinked, opened and closed his mouth like a flopping fish. he waited for a laugh, a "gotcha", the subtlest change in woodie's demeanour to let him know he was joking, it was just a joke, of course he didn't love him, how could anyone love someone like him, but when nothing came, when woodie didn't change - not even a sly grin or a narrow of the eyes - wilson just kept staring in bewilderment.

' _what_?' his voice was high pitched, body frozen, and he was probably on the verge of a heart attack. woodie finally smiled, though it lacked the malice wilson expected, and he closed the gap between them in three long strides. it took everything in wilson's power not to flinch back, to not cower away, to stand his ground and look at woodie head on. 

he didn't know what to expect. a punch to the face, to the gut; maybe his legs would get swooped out from under him and he'd be left there, or maybe woodie would dive for a back stab, or he was five seconds away from getting a spear plunged into his heart. he was expecting something terrible to happen, his mind flitting from one anxiety scenario to another. he trusted woodie with survival. he didn't trust woodie with acquaintanceship, let alone acquaintanceship on an intimate level. 

so when woodie took one of his claws with both of his large hands and pulled it close to his plaided chest, he squeaked in terror, shoulders hunching all the way up his neck. he didn't know why he was expecting an awful scene to play, because woodie wasn't that kind of person, but his nerves were high, body tightly coiled with flight or fight. he'd never trusted people. he'd never allowed himself to. this was all new, and it scared him out of his mind.

'i love you, wilson. you make me happy, an' i'm real glad to be here with you, eh? i hope you know that.' he said. he rubbed a thumb over wilson's knuckles, watching him closely with warm white eyes. wilson blinked for what felt like the 100th time, the unformed words still caught in his throat. 'i know it's a hard thing to believe, but i do. i really, honestly do.' and just as quick as it happened, woodie released his claw, took a few steps back, and then chirped a joyful, 'well, lets go get to work then, eh! them tree's ain't gonna chop themselves!' 

woodie trotted off, leaving wilson with a claw hovering in the air and an eye too wide for his head.

* * *

29/1/2020: lets be free, you and me (also base off my friends drawing!!! < 3)

he hadn't done it on purpose. if he were being truly honest, he didn't even know maxwell was there. one minute, he's taking wilson by the claw and tugging him close, his other hand cupping the side of wilson's face, their lips meeting in a chaste little kiss that has wilson's entire face burning red and woodie chuckling softly; the next, woodie's eyes land on the mortified expression of maxwell staring dead at them from over his codex umbra. 

'say darlin', could you fetch me that beefalo hat real quick? i forgot it on the way here, it's the big red one.'

'you're using kisses as job invites now?' woodie nuzzled their noses together, then planted a sloppy wet kiss on his chin that made him squeal with laughter and push away. 'eeeew, fine, i'll get your hat! you're gross!' wilson scurried off, making a show of wiping his face down. when he disappeared into their tent, woodie walked over to maxwell, who was scowling intensely at his umbra.

'didn't know you were here, eh.'

'i gathered - must you do that? right in front of my codex umbra, no less.' woodie shot him an accusatory look that didn't make maxwell flinch.

'you ain't-' but woodie's burning words were cut off by maxwell's equally scalding retort.

'i am many things, you bumbling ruffian, but being a homophobic is _not_ one of them.' at that, woodie just nodded. 'i have had many relationships with other men in my time, most of which ended with us as friends. do not take my sneers in _that_ manner.'

'so you jus' don't like seeing us happy.'

'in _front_ of me. your show boating is revolting. please do it elsewhere.' woodie nodded again, though he grinned a devilish smile, white eyes twinkling with an idea. 

'sure. you got it, buddy. i'll be on the lookout for yer, eh?' 

long story short: he did the exact opposite of that.

if woodie saw maxwell, he'd make a show. he'd tug wilson into a hug, dance him around the campfire or pick him up and swing him about, let wilson rest his head in his lap and stroke his hair, nuzzle his neck and loudly call him sweet pet names, dip wilson low to the ground and kiss him passionately until wilson couldn't form coherent sentences. the sheer hatred woodie saw on maxwell's face, every single time he did an act of love, made his heart sing further.

'do you actually love him? or are you using him to gloat because you have sick humour?' maxwell snapped one day, when the two were alone.

''course i love him. ain't you seen me kiss him 'til he can't talk right?'

'when i specifically asked you not to do that in front of me-'

'i'm not on the lookout for mr grumpy pants all the time, eh?'

so woodie kept on showing his love for wilson, and maxwell kept sending him death glares, and wilson remained painstakingly oblivious to the bad blood bubbling between woodie and maxwell.

* * *

30/1/2020: glitter

'wha- woodie-?!'

'c'mere, i swear you got somethin' ...' woodie cupped wilson's face, index finger and thumb splayed between his ears, gently tilting him left and right, up and down, looking over his face like he were a fine painting. he hummed, seeming to ignore wilson's beet red face and watering eye. 'huh. thought you had somethin' on your face. ... you alright?' woodie's grin told wilson that he knew exactly what he was doing. 'i guess you _do_ have somethin' on your face, eh?'

'y-you're an arsehole,' woodie rumbled with laughter, rubbing his thumbs across wilson's cheek bones as wilson gripped his hands in light holds. woodie stepped as close to wilson as he could, their noses touching, the tips of woodie's beard tickling wilson's chin. their lips barely touched, their gaze deep and tender, breaths mingling together-

'oh do you **MIND** '

both jumped out of their daze, snapping their heads towards the booming voice. woodie's hands fell to wilson's shoulders, wilson's claws retracting back to his sides.

'MUST you do that in front of me for heavens SAKE, can i NOT just enjoy my peace and quiet when i have it? you have to sap that from me as well, like you haven't taken enough! leave me be and find your own spots to be noisy, because i want NO part of it.'

'ah s-shit, we're sorry maxwell, we-' but wilson was cut off by a pair of lips pressing to the corner of his mouth, the rest of his sentence coming out as a high pitched gasp. one of woodie's arms looped around wilson's back, the other regaining its place on wilson's face, and slowly, he was being pushed into a dip, woodie continuing to pepper kisses to the side of wilson's face that lead a trail to his lips. in an instant, wilson was reduced to a dizzy, burning mush, easily falling into the dip with a swirly eye and a lopsided grin.

'you are _revolting_. **REVOLTING**. you do not even heed my polite requests. and then you wonder why i strengthened all three of your curses. good **DAY**.' maxwell snapped his book closed, stood to his feet with dramatic flair, and stomped off to somewhere else. no one paid him any mind, though, far too busy with chewing each others faces off to watch him go.

* * *

30/1/2020: what makes us human

wilson saw himself as a monster. black arms, skeletal, claw-like hands; those weren't normal traits among 99% of humans, and it especially showed when you were shoved into a world full of normal looking people (monster kids and robots aside). so when someone like woodie came along and started talking to him on more than a "hey can you build me this and make me that" level, he just didn't understand. why was this guy asking him about how his day had been, or where the best chopping spots were, or what his past had been like? wouldn't he want to do that with someone more. normal looking? more human? like mrs. wickerbottom, or wolfgang?

the confusion only increased when woodie started holding his claws. it always came with excuses; 'you looked cold' 'it's dark down here, wouldn't want to loose ya eh' 'you look tired'. the ???'s that rang off wilson were audible. woodie's hands were lumpy, fleshy, even under the gloves, compared to wilson's bony, awkward, uncomfortable, horrible claws. why would anyone want to willingly hold him? he just couldn't grasp it.

then came the pet names, and the concerned stares. the hugging, the back pats; sharing, concern, happiness, and sitting way too close to his side for it to be an accident. woodie scared him, not because of his strength or his full moons, but because of the emotions he bared for wilson; to see, to know, to understand. it was too much - too much for his touch starved, lonely brain; too new and confusing to fully comprehend.

'why are you doing this?' wilson blurted one day, staring intently at their interlaced fingers, plain white mixing with inky black. woodie rubbed his thumb over wilson's knuckles like they were normal. it didn't make any sense to wilson.

'doin' what?' woodie replied with a content, relaxed expression, despite wilson's obvious anxiety.

'this.' wilson made a vague gesture to them as a whole. 'i don't. it's. i-i don't understand.'

'because i like yer, dummy.' he chuckled easily, tightening his grip around their hands in comfort, which only made wilson burn up further.

'o- ... oh.' wilson replied smartly. woodie chuckled again, and it did something weird to wilson's heart, and suddenly he couldn't form coherent thoughts anymore. the entire world spun, and for once, it wasn't because of his sanity. he was still no closer to understanding, but it was nice. weird, but nice.

they stayed like that for a while, holding each others hand in a strange sense of calm.

* * *

4/2/2020: what we do when we're comfortable enough

'woodie, would you happen to know which chest the silks in?'

'oh! yeah, this one.' woodie patted the sticker covered chest, popping it open and handing wilson the entire 122 lumps of silk.

'ah! thank you, love!' wilson beamed him a smile, accepting the silk and walking off to the alchemy machine. by the time he'd created things and walked back, woodie was still stood in place, his bushy face red from ear to ear. '... woodie? are you alright?'

'.................... yeah. m'fine.'

'oh! you look ah, rather red in the face there - are you getting sick?' wilson tilted his head worriedly, forever oblivious. 

'nah. nah, mm good eh? just er, jus' a wave of. something.' wilson blinked at him, confused, but took his word without fuss, and woodie didn't bring it up again. they continued on with their day.

-

'ah woodie, are you okay? that was quite the horde; are you sure you don't need any poultice, love?' again, woodie locked up, the tips of his ears burning, but this time he bounced back far more quickly. 

'yeah, i ain't too beat up. you alright, darlin'?' he noticed wilson suddenly stiffen, but he seemed to easily take it in stride, too. woodie noticed his pale features lighten up with a rosy tint, which made him oddly happy.

'i'm okay, too.' and they continued on with their day like always.

-

'do you want some soup, love?'

'aw, sure. thanks, darlin'.'

their hearts felt far warmer than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will I ever respond to people's comments? perhaps one day! i swear i read them all but the stat on my anxiety is at a solid 10! fuck!


	3. and everything in between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me after having two days worth of terrible sleep and a panic attack for the first time in my life: oh fuck! gotta Write  
> also! i got a plug at the end that im really excited about! poggers!  
> i am just. i am just writing. i am juste

10/2/2020: i'm here

'wilson?' wilson looks over to woodie and instantly sees the despair on his face. he tilts his head in question. 'can i hug you?' wilson is taken aback, but opens his arms and nods his approval to have his space invaded anyway. it happens in seconds - woodie rushing forward in a whirlwind of emotions, wrapping his arms around wilson's neck and tugging him so close they could mesh into one being. he hides his face in the crook of wilson's neck and simply clings, trying his hardest not to cry, his body an earthquake of depression. wilson, still new and awkward to the concept of bodily contact, pats at his shoulder in what he hopes is reassurance, his other arm loosely coiled around woodie's back in return.

'it's okay.' wilson murmurs over his shoulder. the grip around him tightens, though it isn't uncomfortable. 'do you want to go and chop some trees? or go for a walk?'

'do you mind if we stay here?' his voice is muffled and shaky, which finally makes wilson return the hug in full.

'of course not. take as long as you need.' he rubs his claws up and down woodie's back, and woodie's shakes increase. 'you can cry, if you want to. you don't have to hold it in in front of me.' and not five seconds later, wilson feels a wetness grow at his shoulder, woodie's hug becoming desperate as his breath hitches and stutters. something in wilson's heart tingles, at the intimate show of trust. he says nothing more and allows himself to be held.

they stay like that for a while, woodie's sobs slowly dying down into sniffles, his hug becoming exhausted. wilson still holds him, continuing to rub soothing lines up and down his back, ready to stay there for however long woodie needed. 

* * *

10/2/2020: you make it worth it

he hated the boarilla. he hated the scorpeons. he hated the pit pigs. he hated the grand forge boarrior. he hated the snortoise. he hated the rhinobros. he hated the crocommanders. he hated the swineclops. and he hated battle master pugna.

sometimes he'd mistime his chuck with lucy and get run over with attacks, a mistake that would also cost his team mates. too much pressure and responsibility fell on his shoulders, and he felt like he couldn't miss with lucy _once_ , otherwise everything would go wrong in a snap. not to mention how his mastered technique went unnoticed about 95% of the time, which he didn't really mind, until people snarked him for it, even when he was teamed up with both wigfrid and maxwell. he just hated the arena. he just wanted to stay in the constant and chop trees.

that's how he ends up dead, laid out flat on the hot, burning earth, the boarilla locking on to other people after rolling over his body. he isn't down long - not ten seconds later, he hears a 'good as new!' be chirped, and he's being pulled back to his feet in a daze. resurrection is also as unpleasant as death - everything, from memories to emotions, flood him at once, and it's all very over-whelming for the first few seconds. all he can see is bright whites and harsh reds, yet he can still make out the figure of wilson, and he breaks into the biggest smile he can. love and happiness and relief hit him, causing his chest to burn with giddiness.

'ah - thanks, wilson!' he says instead of the usual, taking hold of the distracted wilson's wrist and pulling him close. wilson doesn't even get a chance to squeak his confusion as he's forced to step into woodie's space or risk tripping into him. a smiling kiss was planted directly on his lips, silencing him right up. his blinks, inhales sharply through his nose, cheeks turning a deep red, body frozen with shock, and when woodie crashes back into his mind and realises what he's doing, he doesn't feel all that embarrassed about it. they stay like that for what feels like an eternity, and he pulls away with a giddy grin, releasing wilson's wrist and patting his shoulder. then he charges back into the fray with lucy held high above his head, feeling more energised than ever.

'wilson. * **snap** * wilson! snap out of it, man!' woodie hears maxwell say, followed by a flabbergasted ' _hguhhuu_????', and for the rest of the fight, no matter how much he hates the forge, he can't wipe the dopey smile off his face.

* * *

10/2/2020: hey hey

'wilson!!!'

'oh! greetings, wo- _hurk_ ' he's crushed close and scooped up, the world becoming a dizzy mess as woodie spins him around clean off his feet. claws grapple at woodie's shoulders, bunching up the plaid in tight grips, and he feels woodie's face nuzzle into his chest.

'i missed ya!!!'

'yo-you were gone for a day-'

'still missed ya!!!'

* * *

10/2/2020: more than meets the eye (based off my buds drawing!!!)

wilson was full of surprises. how he didn't know anything about intimacy, not knowing you could hold hands back, how skilled he was in the art of stirring a boat with five sails pinned on it and avoiding all the rocks.

how he could easily pick woodie up bridal style and walk around as if he weighed nothing but feathers.

he learned one day, after their first ever trip to the moon. he got knocked down by the ghostly things, and when he came to, he felt like he was flying. because he was - he was in the arms of a fretting wilson, his face so pale in the harsh blues and whites that he almost looked like the gestalts.

'whats goin' on eh-' woodie blurted, a hand shooting to rub his head. wilson stopped dead in his tracks and stares at him, eye wide with relief and worry.

'oh my god, thank science you're alright! you just- one of those things went through you and the next thing i know you're out cold on the floor so i kinda freaked out and now we're heading back to the boat and going straight back home because i don't know what those things are or what they can do to you and you might have something wrong and-'

'wilson, slow down bud, you're goin' way too fast.' he gently pats at wilson's chest with a numb hand, not 100% with it. then he actually starts paying attention - at how effortlessly wilson is holding him, how high up he is, how wilson is _literally_ carrying him. 'how'er you carryin' me?' 

'what? ... oh! well i just, you know, picked you up-'

'no, how'er you _carryin_ ' me.' wilson started walking again, this time at a much calmer pace, keeping his eye on both woodie and his path. he pinched his brows, obvious confusion on his face at woodie's question.

'i'm, um. ... using my arms.'

'you're walking around like i weigh nothing, eh!' at that, the pieces seemed to click, and wilson did a little "oooh". then he shrugged, coming to another stop at the foot of their boat.

'i don't know. science muscles. do you think you can hop back on the boat on your own? i don't want to drop you into the water.'

woodie wasn't sure whether to fear wilson or not after that.

* * *

11/2/2020: i mean it more than ever

'i love you.' woodie kisses a soft trail from the corner of his good eye down to his chin, one hand resting on his hip, the other at the back of wilson's head. 'i love you so much.' he plants his lips to the corners of wilson's mouth, again dotting upwards, leaving pecks against his nose, then at his brows, before leaning forward to nuzzle his face against wilson's cheek. their beards lightly _scratch_ at the contact. 'i'm glad you let me learn to love again.' he hunches and kisses a line at the base of wilson's neck, starting just under his ear and leading down. 

wilson, throughout all of this, is a burning, mush-reduced mess, his eye a literal swirl of love and happiness, claws shyly holding woodie's hips. he doesn't move or respond the entire time, simply accepting woodie's praises with gentle, hitched gasps.

'than-th-tha-t-thank y-you-you.' he finally manages to get out, which makes woodie pull away with a sheepish, dopey grin. 'i-i feel t-th-the same w-way. a-about you.' woodie's hand shifts from the back of his head to cup his cheek, eyes half cast in complete and utter love, and one of wilson's claws raises to cover his hand. they gaze into each others eyes, smiles wide and true, and then their lips slowly meet in a sweet, tender kiss, eyes closing. they loose themselves further in the moment as lips mesh together and bodies draw impossibly closer.

that's why they didn't notice maxwell walk into the base and just stare at them with absolute disgust.

* * *

11/2/2020: i'll love you 'til you're gone

snow gently falls. the moon looms over them. the world is starting to pulsate in sickeningly bright whites and light blues, but that doesn't stop them from laughing. the gestalts watch as they spin and step in silent tunes together, faces as red as cherries, cheeks close to splitting because of their smiles, eyes bright and full of cheer. they watch, in curiosity, as one dips the other, their laughter dying as they gaze into each other, their arms looped around each other in secure holds. snow dots the holders back, and the setting is peaceful, even with the enchanting whistles of the lunar. they don't understand, even as lips meet and eyes close. as quickly as the event happens, they break apart into flustered laughter, and the holder straightens to full height, pulling the other up with him, resuming their twirls. snow flutters around with them as they create their own little space, and the gestalts continue to watch, fascinated with the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit it's plug time!!! me and my best bud made this blog here: tumblr/blog/bee-n-bug (links dont work wops) if you wanna see some great wilson/woodie drawings (that i may or may not have based some of these fics off) and just screencaps of our memories in general!!! it's really cozy and nice and i love them a whole lot and i am very excited to share our memories because i want everyone to Look. plus bugs art is great and wonderful anyway so you should 100% check it out (also bug if you see this i love you!!!! make sure to take breaks!!!)  
> okay thank have a nice night  
> (also i finally replied to peoples comments. that shit only took like half a year to do sdgghdsfvghdsf THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE COMMENTS I DO READ THEM I AM JUST AWKWARD)  
> long notes huh shgfd sorry


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